Zim Frasier Crossover
by Shazam the Llama
Summary: It's amazing! It's a ZimFrasier crossover! Very strange. Includes humor and some extremely bizarre pairings and circumstances. You know you want to read it...And what do you know, itsa oneshot thrillride of undetermined dimensions!


OMG it's a Zim-Frasier Crossover!

Of course, it was another AMAZING day at Zim's house. He was busy constructing a zebra aeronautical drag racer for the simple task of shaving Dib's enormous head. If he was successful, Dib would be humiliated. Or helped. It's all in how you look at the situation. I mean, that scathe-shaped hair has got to be heavy, or at least a fire hazard. But of course, Zim didn't plan ahead. When does he? When will gas not cost as much as the entire country of Norway?

It just so happened that in the unfortunate circumstance of spontaneous and unintended pseudo-science, the zebra aeronautical drag racer was not as though it seemed.

In fact, this could be where I insert a long, complicated explanation. But I won't. I'll be like David Hasselhoff's vocabulary - brief.

It basically ran on toast and was able to shoot Zim 300 mph to a destination beyond his control. He happened to end up in Seattle. Is that where Frasier lives? Uh, sure, let's go with that!

"WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!" went Gir. So much yelling. So many "E"s to type. So much insanity wasted to go to such a rainy state.

"What is the meaning of this?" Zim screeched as he came out of smoking, flaming device, which had decided to crash into the space needle.

Not only was an entire SWAT team hired by NASA after poor little Zim, Gir was also sucking on a nearby cane of some old guy. Using his quick mind, Zim picked up Gir, the cane, and the cane attached to the old guy…and ran.

"Put me down! Put me down right now!" suggested the old guy in a not-so-friendly manner. "I'm a veteran!"

Zim screamed as he ran down the busy streets of Seattle holding a disguised robot and an old guy (with a cane). Dodging a taxi, he managed to take out a few SWAT guys. Spider legs came out of his pak, allowing him to climb a nearby building. The remaining SWAT members shot at him, but only left a few holes in his cane. The old man responded by beating Zim's head with it.

"Stop, you baldish fool!" hissed Zim.

Gir squealed. "I LOOOOVE YOU FOOL!"

"Put me down!" coughed the old man. SMACK. SMACK. SMACK.

After what seemed like an eternity, Zim crawled in an apartment window.

"Hey! My son's house!" said the old man happily.

"Amazing," growled Zim. And then in a more hushed tone, "Smelly medicare meat child…"

With a final SMACK, the old guy wobbled haphazardly over to a large plaid chair.

"LOOOOOK!" gushed Gir as he bounced on it. "ITSA KILT!"

Zim mumbled to himself as he skittered around the room, activating a tracking device.

"The Tallest will not be pleased when they find out I'm nowhere near my BASE," he said with clenched teeth. "Within no time I'll be back. Just you wait…" he continued, talking to, apparently, no one.

The old man had, by this time, whapped Gir off the easy chair into a vace, knocking it over. Gir ate the shattered pottery.

"Who are you?" snarled the old man to Zim.

"I am ZIM!" exclaimed Zim.

"Zim?"

"Your personal DOOM CANNON! Aren't you amazed at my awesomeness!"

"No…" said the old man, reaching for a phone and slowly pressing the numbers 9-1-1.

Before he could get a chance to begin his call, however, Gir inhaled the phone too.

"WOOF!"

Gir turned around to see Eddie, the terrier.

Time stopped. Little cheesy hearts gathered around Gir's head and slowly circled. Eddie cocked his head, confused, and sappy music played in the background.

"EEEP!" yelped Eddie as Gir rocketed after him. They collided in the other room. Whoa, this is almost as bad as when they paired Zootch up with the Skool secretary's mooing can. Remarkable.

Click…Click…Screeech…

Someone had unlocked the front door and opened it.

"Dad?" said a man who was, quite frankly, pretty bald himself.

"Frasier!" cried the old man, and opened his arms to the heavens.

Frasier surveyed the situation, and proclaimed candidly,

"Let's have a bit of wine."

The two walked over to the kitchen, and Zim stood there, dumbfounded. "Wine…? What is this, wine?"

There was a loud growl from the other room, and Eddie the dog trotted out, victorious, holding a tattered green suit in his mouth.

"Come back!" squealed Gir as he ran after him. "I neeeeeeeeeeeeeeeed yooooou…"

Zim, still curious about this "wine" substance, decided to figure it out himself. He walked proudly into the kitchen.

"I am ZIM!" he exclaimed ever-so-subtly. "Give my glorious presence some of the WINE."

The old man stared at him. Frasier rubbed the bottle of wine.

"Why, this mauve hasn't been freshened as favorably as I had previously anticipated. Come, Dad, and let's go for some dinner," he said.

"But…this green dwarf…" stuttered the old man.

"DWARF?" screamed Zim, and he jumped for the wine, using his face to land on the countertop.

"Oh, but of course," said Frasier. "Niles is most certainly invited."

"I don't have time for this," hissed Zim, peeling his head off the linoleum. "I need to back to my base home! NOW!"

Frasier petted Zim on the head. "What a lovely Elvis toupee. Why, old sport, you do have a jolly personality."

"ARGGGHGH!" screamed Zim, shaking Frasier's hand off his head.

Gir had, by this time, attached himself to the old man's leg.

"That's it," said the old man. "I'm calling the police."

"What a splendid idea," said Frasier. "I'll put on the wine."

"WINE!" screamed Zim.

------

"That's it son, twees it out."

Professor Membrane was giving his son, Dib, some helpful advice on how to collect the last remaining molecules of toothpaste out of an empty tube.

"But…Dad!" strained Dib, as his knuckles became white with so much squeezing.

"Come now, son. Use the colossal head that science graciously provided for you. If you need me, I'll be in the car." And with that, Membrane and his lack of pants briskly strode over to the carport.

"Yes, Dad…" Dib muttered, and swiftly pitched the empty tube of toothpaste into the trash.

He eventually threw his luggage into the trunk of his dad's vehicle. Taking his seat in the back, he reminisced about sasquatch fetuses and watched out the window as the small family drove to the west coast.

The only explanation given was that they were to retrieve Super Toast, who was fighting crime in Seattle.

Dib found it a bit odd that Zim wasn't at Skool.

Or did he?

Eventually, they arrived there. At Seattle. Yes.

"Let's cure hunger!" exclaimed Membrane, shooting his fist in the air, inconveniently punching a hole in the top of the car.

They drove to a prestigious restaurant. The name of it was unpronounceable. The three family members made their way inside.

"To a mass-produced table unit!" said Membrane, pointing into the room.

"Do they serve pizza?" wondered Dib.

And then, their eyes met.

---

"ZIM!" cried Dib.

A small cluster of people, with a strangely green dwarf and robot, looked up from their business as Dib streaked across the dining room, knocking over white table clothed tables and $300 glasses of liquor.

"I don't know what you're talking about," suggested Zim, sipping a cup of wine.

"My boy, would you like to talk about something?" said a man by the name of Frasier, who enjoyed counseling mentally challenged people.

"YES! Yes, I would," said Dib, heaving in and out.

Frasier patted a chair next to him. "Have a seat," he said.

Dib rejected the seat, and instead, made his way over to Zim. He picked up a shrimp off a nearby plate and shook it in his face.

"What are you doing? Planning human destruction in some way, no doubt. Well just you wait…I'll…be…doing something about it…" His face was beet red. He looked like a tomato with an incredibly long, scathe-shaped stem. Gross.

Zim plucked the shrimp out of Dib's hand and ate it. "Heh…" he managed to croak.

Dib was so distraught he jumped up and down awkwardly.

"Aw, the poor lad has got to go to the ol' lavatory," said a woman with a strong English accent, seated at the table.

Dib was confused, so he stared into the woman's eyes. Confusing and slightly irritating, for sure, but it makes for some great twisted fan fiction, doesn't it?

"Why, I do bahl-ieve I'm in love with you," said the woman, grabbing Dib and squeezing him into a hug. Just a hug, people. Don't get excited.

However, Dib did eat a lemon at some point. It was sour, distasteful, and completely unnecessary.

Dib screamed in protest as the woman, Daphne, led him away from the table.

"I could go for a crumpet, couldn't you?" Daphne said.

"What the crumpet?" Dib cried.

"Have fun, son," said Membrane as he watched him pass his table and leave with Daphne.

Zim sipped some more wine.

-----

"What daftly waggish behavior," sobbed Niles uncontrollably. "That tomato went and embezzled my wife."

Frasier attempted to consol his brother, who used excruciatingly large words.

Gir diffused the high intelligence by screaming, "LONG PANTS LONG PANTS NO PANTS!" and jumping up and down on the table. The old man poured wine on him, causing Gir to temporarily short-circuit.

"Why, I'm sure you'll get her back. After all, who can stand English women? Look at Oprah!" laughed Frasier stupidly.

Niles sobbed louder, causing his suit to get wet. Oh, the horror.

Always helpful, the old man, Martin, said, "Suck it up."

Surprisingly, Niles did.

"The large-headed imbecile will die," he said solemnly.

"Now, Niles, no need to get hasty," said Frasier.

No one noticed how drunk Zim was becoming in the corner.

Niles turned to him.

"Hideously green dwarf," he addressed Zim. "You don't happen to have a large projectile on you…?"

Zim belched, and started to laugh hysterically. "Yes, yes, of course. It's in the…burp zebra…"

Gir took away his keys. You wouldn't think I'd let a drunk driver loose in this story, would you? Come now. Drinking and driving is stupid. Like David Hasselhoff, only with significantly less shiny abs.

Niles grabbed the keys from Gir and ran outside.

"Niles!" cried Frasier, as if yelling at him would help.

Martin clanked his wine glass on Zim's.

Professor Membrane and Gaz watched as Niles streaked out of the restaurant. Membrane turned to his daughter.

"Now remember what I have always told you, Gaz," he said. "The consumption of extreme amounts of refried beans will cause imminent colon explosion!" and he promptly shook his finger at the ceiling.

Niles continued through the parking lot, past a car with a hole in the roof, and finally, to a zebra-striped vehicle.

"I do believe…" he said, still intelligent, although quickly becoming more deranged. He stuck the keys in the door, and it opened.

Inside lay a large gun of goo. It had a name that no one who doesn't dedicate their life to Zim could possibly remember.

Niles grabbed the gun, and clenched his teeth. Murderers tend to do that. Especially ones who have spent years in college, only to lose their wife to a 10-year-old.

Behind a dumpster, Daphne sat, eating an old muffin. "This has gawt to be the most delicious crumpet I have ever tasted," she said, with crumbs falling out of her mouth. Dib sat there, afraid to move. This was probably because Daphne had wedged his extremely large head between two trees. It's kind of impossible to get out of that one by yourself.

It just so happened that Niles could recognize an English accent from miles away. Hey, that rhymes. Niles…miles…

In any case, he didn't have to look far. Dib quickly found his situation becoming more intense. Not only was he stuck between two trees, a large Irken device was pressed against his really large skull.

"Well, this stinks," he remarked.

"Hand over the wife…" Niles growled.

"Uh…I'm really not in the position to…" Dib stuttered.

"Oh, stop, Niles!" shrieked Daphne. "If you shoot him, his large amount of brains will splatter all over my crumpet!"

"Oh, I'm quite sorry, my love," said Niles, and he stood in front of Dib. "See? Now the brains will shoot out on the other side…"

Daphne responded by licking the muffin wrapper.

"Why, you little poozeweasel," Niles said to Dib, making up a brilliantly cool word off the top of his head. "You thought you could just take my wife while I watched, helpless from a table and drinking wine. But you won't get away with it this time! Oh no!"

"Um, sure," said Dib.

"What, going to backsass me now, punk?" said Niles. "You…will…not be alive so much…anymore."

"Great," said Dib.

"Don't try anything! I have my finger on the trigger!"

"I can see that."

"Why, of course you can. Trying to outwit me. Ha. The very thought. Are you feeling lucky?"

"Actually, not so much."

"Why, I'm terribly sorry…I mean, YES! My…evil? Yes, evil plan is almost complete."

With all of this horrible stalling going on, Daphne was actually able to finish eating. She stood up. "Let's depart and finish the wine with Dad and Frasier," she suggested, and started to walk towards the restaurant.

"Of course, lovely! I am coming!" cried Niles, and he skipped along after her.

Dib sighed.

He wondered if his dad would come after him.

Meanwhile, he was growing increasingly hungry.

"I wonder if I still…" he thought aloud, and licked his arm. "Yep." 


End file.
